Forgiveness
by Sailor Moonac
Summary: Despite having told Sam the truth about Hell, Dean is still haunted by the darkness of his memories. Castiel descends from Heaven to confront Dean as both parties come to terms with their own feelings. Spoilers for all Season 4. Dean x Castiel.


**Author's Note:** Well, since Supernatural is taking a two month break, which also means two months of no Dean and Castiel interaction, I of course had to take the liberty of writing my own take on what would happen after the events of "Heaven and Hell." So, that means heavy spoilers for season four for everything that has aired and this is a **mature rated one-shot**. Therefore, if Slash/guy on guy action/Yaoi or whatever you wish to call it is not to your fancy, then I must insist you leave. But otherwise if this is to your fancy, enjoy and note that nothing belongs to me. If Supernatural did belong to me, it would have been Castiel in the backseat of the Impala with Dean instead of Anna. I mean, there is _definitely _something going on between Castiel and Dean. This is merely my interpretation.

* * *

Forgiveness

By: Sailor Moonac

They drove and drove, barely stopping even for food and rest in the last two days since their departure from Union, Kentucky. The Impala was constantly noisy, but only to the blaring of ACDC or Aerosmith to name a few. On the other hand, the two occupants of the Impala were unusually silent, despite their months [years] of separation and avoided physical or even eye contact with each other. That, was only in the last two days since...

Sam had turned over what Dean told him in his head over and over again, feeling disconnected and wondering if the person sitting next to him in the driver's seat was really his brother? Forty years. The thought alone pulled painfully at Sam's heart and Sam realised that Dean was right. There was nothing he could say or do to change what happened; there was nothing he could do or say to help Dean forget. Dean was, Sam thought, different but still the same. But that thought scared Sam. How much was really Dean and how much was really an act? An act to hide how broken—how traumatised Dean really was? Dean's personality was still the same but...

Sam discretely glanced at Dean through the corner of his eyes. Dean was focusing on the road intently, eyes hooded with what could either be the darkness of his memories of his time in Hell or from the lack of sleep. Fighting a yawn, Sam glanced at his cellphone and noted the time to be just past midnight. Sam sighed briefly before reaching for the stereo power and turning it off.

Dean seemed startled by the sudden lack of noise in the Impala and actually looked confused for a few moments before refocusing on the road and casting a glance at Sam. Sam, to his best effort, tried to smile before responding. "It's past midnight and my arse is really sore. Could we find some motel and call it a night?"

"Yeah. Yeah sure." And the music was abruptly turned on again and that was the end of that conversation.

Sam sighed again and turned around to face the window again. He carefully watched Dean's reflection in the darkened window and realised his brother was once again focused too intently on the road without actually seeing the road. Once again, Sam wondered what could be going through Dean's head. Though Dean had told Sam the truth of what occurred in Hell for the four[ty] months [years] he was in hell, Dean never mentioned how he was feeling about it now. He knew Dean had nightmares of his time in Hell, but that was only because Uriel had told him that Dean does remember his time in Hell. As a result of that, Sam had stayed in the motel room the entire night the night of All Saint's Day and had witnessed the torment on his brother's sleeping face personally. Since that night, Sam's heart still clenched in guilt thinking back to when Dean was resurrected and he still left every night to meet with Ruby. He was being selfish, Sam thought, thinking of his own revenge and seeking his own gratification while his brother suffered alone in some dingy motel with half-clean sheets that was better not being used at all. Some brother he was.

Sam turned his head to face Dean again and watched him overtly. Sam thought of the tears, of Anna, of the demons and of the angels. 'Never again,' thought Sam. Watching his brother's hooded eyes and lips drawn in a tight lipped frown, Sam saw the despair, the guilt, the pain and more on his brother's face. For the first time since Dean's return, Sam felt he was seeing the real Dean, the Dean that suffered and the Dean that was still his brother. Looking at Dean through the darkness of the night with only the street lamps casting a soft glow on his brother, Sam vowed never to leave his brother's side again.

As if sensing his thoughts, Dean finally broke his gaze with the road and glanced at Sam, casting a weak smile that seemed to imply Dean was far older than he actually was (forty years). "Looks like a motel up ahead. Then we can shower and get some sleep."

Sam nodded and watched as his brother returned his gaze to the road and was once again lost in his own thoughts and memories. Sam wondered, as the Impala pulled into the parking lot of the motel, if he could persuade his brother to forgive himself as he himself had forgiven his brother. Thirty years Dean held on , withstanding the most horrifying torture and for that, Sam was proud that Dean was his older brother.

* * *

Dean slumped down on his bed exhausted to the bones and vaguely acknowledged Sam as he went into the shower. Dean was so tired, but he felt like he still had to keep driving, to keep running. To run away from the truth his Sammy had to hear; to run away from the memories of Anna; to run away from Castiel. Angels and Demons...Dean really wished his mother wasn't a Hunter then. Wished his father didn't become a Hunter, and wished his father wasn't dead.

Dean sat up with a sudden realisation. His father. From the time Dean was almost taken by a Reaper of Death, to the time Dean looked Azazel square in the eyes and shot him with the Colt as the Devil's Gate lay open for Demons and lost souls alike to escape from Hell was a span of over eight months. "Shit." Dean fell back down onto the bed and covered his eyes with both hands as though that would prevent the gathering tears from falling. John had been in Hell twice as long as Dean had. Eight months on Earth, means eighty years in Hell. Eighty years of torture, eighty years of Alastair. "God..."

Dean couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air into his lungs as he chocked back his tears. His father probably had to withstand the same torture and the same offer Alastair made him for eighty years. Dean knew his father and he knew John Winchester was probably the most stubborn and inherently good person he knew. Dean knew his father wouldn't have caved in; Dean knew his father would've resisted Alastair's offer for the full eighty years. Unlike him.

Guilt welled up in Dean's chest as he painfully pushed himself off the bed and grabbed a set of motel keys and the keys to the Impala. Pausing briefly to look at the mirror hanging on the wall, Dean saw a broken shadow of his former self with tears streaking down his reflection's face. Vaguely noting a notepad by the telephone, Dean scribbled Sam a quick note and left the motel room.

Dean drove into town and eyed each and every bar before finally stopping at the busiest looking one and went in. Dean figured with more people, there would be a less likely chance for people to bother him and Dean Winchester was not a cry baby who cried in bars. Dean entered the bar and sat down in the far corner of the bar and flagged the barman for a whiskey. After taking the first shot, Dean asked that the bottle be left with him. The barman eyed Dean speculatively but assented when Dean slapped down a fifty. Dean poured himself another shot and chugged it down before pulling off the top off the whiskey bottle and just chugging the whiskey straight from the bottle. Dean grimaced at the burn of the whiskey going down his throat before throwing back several more gulps.

For several hours, Dean continued to drink his bottle of whiskey, eyeing his surroundings with distrust and wondering why the hell he was still conscience. After finishing half the bottle of whiskey, Dean sluggishly got up and stumbled aimlessly to the exit of the bar with the bottle of whiskey in hand, bumping into several people along the way and actually knocking down a woman down as well. Dean muttered a guttural apology before making his exit and winced as the cold wind blew through his body and straight into his heart. He pulled his leather jacket tighter around him and took another large gulp of the whiskey before making his way unsteadily towards the Impala.

"Hey you son of a bitch! You knocked down my girl you arsehole!"

Dean turned around straight into a punch which collided with his jaw. Dean stumbled backwards into a parked car and gripped his jaw as another man came at him. Dean dodged the second man messily, nearly tripping over his own feet before swinging the half full bottle of whiskey at the second man's head, smashing it into pieces on the man's head and taking him out instantly. The first man grabbed Dean from behind and rammed him into another parked car before grabbing a tuft of Dean's hair and trying to use that as leverage to bang Dean's head on the car. Dean kicked backwards, getting the man square in the bollocks before elbowing him and finally kicking the man away. A third man appeared out of nowhere, swinging a tire iron. Dean dodged the first swing of the man which broke through the windscreen of the car and stumbled backwards dizzily.

"Woah dude, we don't need to do that." Dean noted mildly that his words were slurred and he had difficulty focusing on the man. Dean dodged another swing of the man's tire iron and stumbled backward before backing into the fallen man and tripping over him. "Shit!!" Dean raised his arms over his face to block the swinging tire iron and—

"Hey, let go you—" Castiel had grabbed the tire iron before it could strike Dean and pulled it away from the man with relative ease. He then reached out and with a tap of his middle and index finger to the forehead of the attacker, the man slumped over and fell down knocked out cold.

Dean blinked blearily at Castiel for a few moments, wondering if it was another holy tax accountant that saved him before his brain finally caught up and he realised he only knew one holy tax accountant. Dean rubbed his face wearily, wincing when his hand brushed his jaw. "Fuck that hurts." Dean pulled himself up unsteadily with the assistance of the car looked mournfully at his broken bottle of whiskey. "And I didn't even finish it—"

"Which you shouldn't do. Dean, you're drunk."

Dean scoffed at Castiel before turning away to head towards his car again. "Duh, no shit." Dean reached the Impala and groped around in his pocket for his keys. "Where the hell are they...?" Dean's head snapped up as he heard the sirens of police cars and dug around even more frantically in his other pockets for his car keys. A jingle behind him alerted him to their location.

Dean turned around to face Castiel again and Castiel held both Dean's car keys and his motel room keys in his hand. "You shouldn't drive in your condition."

"Screw that." Dean snatched at the keys but missed as Castiel pulled his hand away. Castiel briefly glanced in direction of the sirens before pushing Dean away from the car door.

"I'll drive."

"Yeah right!" Dean scoffed at Castiel as he steadied himself on the hood of the Impala. "I'm not letting you touch my baby. And can Angel's even drive?"

Castiel looked down and fingered his trench coat before meeting Dean's eyes. "This vessel knows how to, so I merely have to borrow his memories." Dean scoffed again, muttering about crazy angels before making his way to the passenger side door. Castiel unlocked the Impala and smoothly got into the driver's seat while Dean collapsed into the passenger side seat, knocking his head in the process of getting into the seat. Castiel pulled on the seatbelt looking mystified by such a contraption before helping Dean pull on his own seatbelt. Castiel studied the steering wheel intently for a few moments, reviewing the memories of his vessel, before starting the car and driving out of the bar parking lot. Castiel drove steadily, ignoring the passing police cars and glanced at Dean who was looking at Castiel in awe.

Dean winced when he scoffed again. "Look at that, the Angel can drive. Like an old man."

"It is far safer to drive at this speed and far less conspicuous for the police who are trying to find you." Castiel gave Dean a pointed look that was reprimanding before focusing on the road. After twenty minutes, Castiel pulled into the parking space in front of Dean's motel room and smoothly got out of the car and made his way over to the passenger side to help Dean out of the car. Dean shook away Castiel's help, muttering under his breath and stumbled to the door of his motel room. After fiddling with the lock for a few moments, Dean pushed open the door and collapsed onto the closet bed. Castiel followed Dean into the motel room and closed the door, locking it behind him. Castiel turned to face Dean again who was clutching his head to stave off an oncoming headache. "Sam is out looking for you."

Dean looked around the room and noted the torn notepad with his note. "He'll come back eventually." Dean reached into his pocket and drew out his silenced cellphone, noting he had half a dozen text messages and a couple of missed calls.

"You should tell him you're alright. That is, unless you are deliberately seeking isolation."

Dean snorted and winced as that produced pain in his jaw again. "Then get out if you know what I want." Dean reached up and pulled a relatively clean motel pillow to him and buried his face in it, refusing to acknowledge Castiel. Dean laid motionless on the bed for several minutes before curiosity got the better of him and removed the pillow from his face. Castiel was still there, seemingly staring off into space with his back to Dean. As if sensing Dean's eyes, Castiel turned to meet Dean's eyes. Dean groaned in annoyance before throwing the pillow back over his face. "You really do get your freak on by watching me sleep don't you? Arsehole."

The bed dipped down slightly by Dean's hip. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Well I have nothing to say to you and there is nothing I want to hear from you," mumbled Dean into the pillow.

"Dean."

Dean groaned in frustration before throwing off the pillow and sitting up, shaking off the drowsiness of the alcohol. "What dammit?"

Castiel met Dean's eyes and held it for a few moments before breaking it and looking down. "I want to thank you for starters. If Alastair was able to finish that spell, he would have killed me. I...I did not expect him to be so powerful. While Uriel specializes in combat, I cannot say I share the same capabilities as he does." Castiel paused.

Dean shrugged in response. "Whatever. I'd get one over Alastair any day, that conniving bastard. You just happened to be pinned by the guy. Besides you saved me from getting a face full of tire iron. Now can you leave me alone so I can go to sleep? I'm going to have one hell of a hangover come morning and I just want to sleep it off."

Castiel looked up to meet Dean's eyes again. "If you know how badly off you will be in the morning, then why do you drink?"

"Because I want to get drunk. Isn't that obvious, mister omniscient?"

Castiel gave an uncharacteristic sigh and reached out to place a hand on Dean's bruised jaw. "And you want to be drunk so that you can forget everything that happened two days ago. Dean, you can't run away from everything that has happened."

"Who the hell's running?" Dean made an angry swipe at Castiel's hand, knocking it aside. Castiel then moved his hand to the hand print he burnt into Dean's shoulder. Dean winced. It wasn't painful, Castiel's touch on his scar, but it did pulse in a strange warmth that Dean was hesitant to say, was comforting.

"I gripped you tight and pulled you from perdition, not so that you can drink yourself back." Castiel gripped Dean's shoulder, increasing the warmth Dean felt on his shoulder that then started spreading to the rest of his body. "I never meant to threaten to throw you back. I never want to throw you back into the darkness of Hell. I've been down there, and I understand what horrors exist there. That was one of the reasons why I had Uriel tell you instead that night—"

"No! Instead you threaten to throw Sammy in the pit! All for what? An angel who choose to live and understand human emotions!" Dean pushed Castiel's arm off his shoulder. "All Anna wanted was to understand and feel, something you obviously can't do! And...and..." Dean broke off, the tears that he had suppressed with the alcohol, making a fast comeback.

"And you feel you failed her. Just as you feel you failed your brother, your father, and yourself—"

"SHUT—SHUT UP!!" Dean gripped his eyes tightly, hoping to push back the tears that were now falling freely again. "You don't understand a damn thing because you can't feel—you can't understand!"

Castiel looked down at his vessel's hand, the one Dean shoved off his shoulder. "I'm trying Dean; I'm trying to feel. I can't understand humans as well as Anna can, but I'm trying. Humans are confusing creatures that can be so full of love and hatred and that, I believe, is what makes them so beautiful. Dean, you have to forgive yourself for what happened in Hell. My Father forgives you, and I forgive you as well—"

"How about my father then?! When my father was down there in the Pit for twice as long as I was, did he ever give in? Did he ever give in to Alastair?" Dean's tear filled eyes met Castiel's.

Castiel looked away first. "No but—"

"No, my father didn't give in! But I did! I tortured and tore and destroyed for ten years! I couldn't even last half the time my father lasted! I couldn't—can't be the son my father wanted me to be. I can't face Sammy anymore and see the pity and _apprehension_ in his eyes, knowing his big brother wasn't as strong as he believed, wasn't strong as his father! I failed as a hunter and as a human being! I—" Dean broke off to wipe away his tears with his sleeve. "I would have become a demon if I had to do that any longer. I should have just stayed on that fucking rack; I—" Dean broke off, unable to continue pouring out his heart.

Castiel watched Dean quietly during Dean's tirade. "No, but your father wasn't tortured by Alastair who is undoubtedly one of the cruellest demons imaginable." Dean choked down a sob and Castiel, despite Dean's resistance, placed his hand over the hand print scar once again, offering Dean warmth. "You're running Dean. You're running from what has already past and I'm sorry, but I cannot take away the pain of those memories. Those memories, I believe, will allow you to understand why the Apocalypse must never come to pass—"

"That's all you care about huh? Well you can bet I sure as hell will not let Lucifer break out of his kennel. I know, alright Cas! I know what Hell is like! And this is about the only thing I can do to atone for what I've done in Hell. But even with that, I'll never truly atone, and the moment I die whether by getting a piano dropped on me or a heart attack at some ripe old age, won't change the fact that I'll go back to Hell—"

"No you will not! I will not allow it!" Castiel gripped Dean by both shoulders and forced him to look him in the eyes. "I will not allow you go back to Hell, Dean. Whenever you die again, it doesn't matter. Even if I have to defy my Father's orders, I'll will _not_ allow you to fall into Hell again. Never again Dean. You have to forgive yourself Dean. I can't tell you whether or not your father forgives you for giving in, but you know your father better than I do. But from what I do know, your father values your safety and well-being. Knowing that, I can say with quite certainty he too forgives you for your transgressions in Hell. Dean, only now you have to forgive yourself and make peace with yourself. You said this was a way to atone, but you lack conviction behind that. Believe in it Dean, believe in this and forgive yourself. You can continue to drown yourself in alcohol the night before but come morn, the pain will still be there if not worse. No one blames you for giving in. You've done your best and that's all you can do. Let go, Dean. Let go."

Dean wiped away his tears and met Castiel's eyes again. "I don't know if I can. I won't be able to forget."

"Then learn. And do this for those souls. My Father believes in you; your own father believes in you; I believe in you. And I don't want to see you fall like this..." Castiel released Dean's shoulder and sat back, observing Dean as he pulled himself together. They sat in silence as Dean forced away most of his tears. It was Castiel who broke that silence. "I told you when I first met you, that you were worthy—that you are worthy. Believe that Dean."

Dean scrubbed his face wearily, noticing his jaw didn't smart anymore and his headache subsiding. "Cas, I...I just don't know if I can. Sometimes I feel like the entire weight of the world is on my shoulder—oh wait it is."

Castiel gave a small smirk. "Yes it is. But not just on you. You're not alone. You have your friends and your brother. Sam..." Castiel paused, contemplating the enigma of Samuel Winchester and wondering whether or not he should agree with Uriel. "...Sam, I believe, can be saved from falling down the wrong path. As of currently, he seems to be sticking close to you and trying his best to support you. I pray that he will continue on this path. I truly do."

"Yeah...I hope so too..."

"You should talk to your brother about your feelings."

Dean snorted, once again able to find his sense of humour. "Right, like we need anymore chick flick moments."

"Dean."

"Yeah what?" Dean looked up just as Castiel pressed his lips to Dean. The first thought that came to Dean's head was that Castiel's lips were warm, the same kind of warmth that had spread throughout Dean's body from when Castiel touched his hand print scar. The second thought was 'what the fuck?' Dean pushed Castiel away by his shoulders and shook his head as the warmth from his lips spread throughout his body, seemingly surrounding the guilt, the pain, the sadness and sorrow in his heart, making him dizzy with euphoria. "Woah, woah—Castiel what are you doing?!"

Castiel merely cocked his head in his innocent curious manner, looking slightly confused and analytical at the same time. "Isn't this how humans comfort each other? That is what Anna did."

Dean felt the blood drain from his face before it became flaming red. "No—I mean yes—no! I mean, yes and no." Dean was shocked and starting to panic now. How the hell was he supposed to explain the concept of pity sex to an Angel of the Lord—to Castiel?! Dean dug deep into his head, looking anywhere but at Castiel's piercing blue eyes that were so innocent but wise. If that made sense. As Dean looked around, he started noticing random details, mostly about Castiel. How he wore so many layers, a trench coat, a navy blue suit blazer, and his white pressed shirt; how his stripped navy blue tie was tied unevenly and loosely around his neck; how the first button of his white pressed shirt was unbuttoned; how warm—the same kind of warmth as Castiel's kiss and touch—Castiel felt under his hands that were holding Castiel at an arm's length away; how—

"Dean." Castiel had moved up close again and pressed his lips to Dean's once again. Dean this time started noticing other things about the kiss; how Castiel's lips were soft but slightly chapped; how timid and uncertain Castiel was in kissing; how his lips were slightly parted and soft breaths were gently ghosting over Dean's lips...

'Oh the hell with it.' Dean took over the kissing then and instead of pushing Castiel away, pulled him closer and slipped his tongue into Castiel's parted lips, coaxing Castiel's tongue to play with his own. Gently, Dean showed Castiel how to kiss, gently moaning into the Angel's mouth as Castiel responded. After several minutes, Dean pulled away gasping for breath as he leaned his forehead against Castiel's. One of Dean's hands was wound into Castiel's vessel's hair and the other around the vessel's waist. Dean looked up, meeting Castiel's eyes which still looked more curious and analytical than anything else.

"Is that all you're supposed to do?" Castiel's question startled Dean. "Uriel said you and Anna were frolicking like animals and he mentioned something..." Castiel looked even more confused as he tipped his head sideways in his usual manner with his forehead still pressed to Dean's. "...Something about angel food cake but I'm quite certain cake is food so where does the angel come in?"

Dean let out a bemused chuckle before pressing his lips to Castiel's again in another searing kiss. Castiel, Dean realised, really didn't know what pity sex was. Dean pulled away from the kiss again and gasped, "it's pity sex. Anna and I had pity sex. For when one or both participants are fucking miserable and just want to take their minds off everything that's bugging them. Pity sex is a pretty good distraction."

Castiel stared into Dean's eyes, seemingly judging the truthfulness of Dean's words. "Show me."

"What?"

"Show me. I don't really understand that concept and you, undoubtedly, need to be distracted, if only for the night. So, show me Dean."

Dean gulped, wondering what the big Man upstairs would say if Dean fucked one of his Angels—that is, an Angel that hasn't lost its grace. "Cas, I can't—"

"I know what you're thinking, and believe me when I say this Dean. This isn't blasphemy as you're worried about. You'll understand, so please, show me."

"What about your vessel?"

"Trust me Dean when I say it's fine."

Dean peered into Castiel's honest and _innocent_ eyes before gulping again and nodding. Dean pressed another kiss to Castiel and took his hands off the Angel to shrug off his leather jacket and outer shirt. Dean pulled away from the kiss and leaned back to pull his undershirt over his head, baring his chest to Castiel. Dean tentatively reached for Castiel's trench coat and Castiel looked down at his clothes, comprehension coming to his eyes after a few moments. Castiel got up off the bed from where he had been sitting and walked over to the small table and seat set by Dean's bed. He shrugged off his trench coat and cast it carelessly over one of the chairs. He then pulled off his navy blue blazer and draped it over the other chair before loosening his matching tie and pulling it over his head to toss onto the table. Castiel methodically unbuttoned his white pressed shirt and carefully pulled it out of his pants and folded it, setting it onto the seat of the chair. Castiel then turned to face Dean who was admiring Castiel openly.

Castiel, Dean thought, was rather prissy in the manner he pulled off half his clothes, though Dean had to admit, Castiel didn't look bad. Castiel, or rather more his vessel, wasn't as muscular as either Sammy or himself, but he was lean and fit and wasn't bad to look at. Dean got off the bed and kicked off his boots and tugged off his socks as well before undoing his jeans and pulling that off as well, leaving Dean standing in his boxers. Castiel mimicked Dean in stripping off his clothes, though with far more finesse and methodical precision. In the end Castiel stood before Dean with boxer briefs on and the typical cock of his head that indicated curiosity. It was funny, thought Dean, how he notices details about Castiel and the detail he was currently noticing was what underwear his vessel wore. "I am so going back to Hell."

Castiel walked forward with concerned eyes and shook his head. "No Dean you're not. I promise you I won't let you go back."

Dean allowed brief memories of Hell to flash across his vision and he shrugged, not sure what to think anymore. After all, he was about to violate an Angel here. Castiel must have been reading Dean's thoughts because at that moment, Castiel took another step forward to be directly in front of Dean and pressed his hand to the hand-print scar on Dean's shoulder before kissing Dean tenderly as Dean had taught him. Warmth flooded through Dean's body, reminding him that he was not as alone as he once thought, and Dean pulled Castiel flushed against his body before turning Castiel around and pushing him to the bed. Dean climbed over Castiel, straddling his hips and propping himself up with his forearms before leaning back down to kiss Castiel again.

Dean grounded his hips down against Castiel who opened his eyes and looked confusedly at Dean before gasping into the kiss he shared with Dean, feeling pleasure pull downwards. Dean smirked slightly against Castiel's lips before putting more fervour into his grinding, causing Castiel to gasp into the new sensations. Dean broke off his kiss with Castiel and started downwards, leaving small nips and kisses down Castiel's neck to his clavicle and finally his nipples. In the mean time, one of his hands reached down and hooked a finger into the waistbands of Castiel's boxer briefs. Dean hesitated, distracting Casitel by sucking gently on a nipple and decided it was probably better if he was the first one naked. He switched his hand to his own boxers and shoved them down and off. Castiel lifted his hips up to meet Dean's and copied Dean's action, removing the last of the barriers between flesh.

Dean sat back up, careful to not actually sit on Castiel and just observed. Castiel [his vessel, his mind supplied], was beautiful, and the perfect idea of an angel. Castiel met Dean's gaze carefully and they just continued to watch each other for several minutes; Dean wondered what Castiel was thinking about behind his clear blue eyes. After several minutes of just staring at each other, Dean got off the bed and went to his duffel and dug around for a minute before locating some lubricant. Castiel had sat up on the bed to watch Dean as he searched and cocked his head curiously when Dean climbed back onto the bed with the lubricant at hand.

Seeing Castiel's curious gaze, Dean shrugged. "It makes...the process much easier." Dean shifted nervously, feeling as if he was about to have sex with a young virgin [which probably wasn't that far from the truth] and had to treat that virgin as if he or she was made of porcelain. "Uhh...here, could you...?" Dean gently shoved Castiel's leg in opposite directions. Getting the hint, Castiel parted his legs for Dean who then lubricated his fingers. "This will probably hurt so tell me if you want me to stop—"

"Dean." Since when all of their clothes had come off, Castiel had not actually spoken until then; it completely startled Dean. "This isn't for me. This is for you. Do what you want."

"Right..." Dean swallowed his nervousness and gently prodded Castiel's entrance and pushed in a finger as gently as he could. Feeling the constricting nature of his passage confirmed that in this sense, Castiel really was a virgin. Dean looked up at Castiel who had an intense look of concentration on his face and Dean couldn't tell if Castiel was in pain or not. Dean wiggled his finger experimentally, attempting to locate a certain gland that makes being a guy absolutely worth it and grinned knowingly when Castiel's look of concentration broke with a surprised yelp. Dean continued to pleasure Castiel in such a manner, slowly easing in the second and third finger in the mean time to prep Castiel.

After the first initial yelp of surprise, Castiel had broken his gaze with Dean and instead had closed his eyes as his breathing laboured. When Dean felt Castiel was properly prepared, Dean eased his fingers out gently and leaned carefully over Castiel, giving the angel another kiss. Castiel opened his eyes and met Dean's eyes as they shared another passionate kiss. "You ready?" Castiel acquiesced with a nod of his head and Dean carefully lubed himself up and pressed in slowly, millimetre by millimetre at a time.

Castiel's composure broke then as he gripped Dean's shoulders gasping into the feeling. After completely easing himself in, Dean gave Castiel another kiss, this time on the cheek before meeting the Angel's eyes. Castiel was flushed and laboured in breathing, shaking every so slightly. "Cas, are you alright?"

Castiel nodded, seemingly shocked by the feeling. "Yes, it feels...whole." Dean nodded in agreement and that warmth from Castiel seemed to be surging throughout his body, setting his senses alight. After a few more moments to gather his bearings, Dean began to move, rocking his hips gently and ripping out pleasured gasps from the Angel beneath him. "Dean—!" Understanding Castiel, Dean pulled the Angel into his arms tightly as the Angel gripped him tightly, one hand always on his scar and the other wrapped around his neck.

They moved together in a steady pace for what seemed like an eternity of pleasure, warmth, and something more before Dean finally felt his end coming. The warmth seemed to have reached a crescendo then as his whole body heated up as though he was a volcano about to erupt. "Dean!" Castiel had reached his end before Dean, and Dean upon hearing his name gasped out from the Angel in his arms, felt his end arrive.

It was Heaven. Or atleast this was what Dean imagined to be Heaven. Stars filled his eyes as a gentle melodic voice rang clear around him and he was encased in a warmth that seemed to never end as wind rushed passed his ears and the sound of flapping wings welcomed him into the centre of a light so bright, and beautiful. How long Dean remained in such a state, he wasn't sure. But by the time he regained consciousness, the semen between his and Castiel's body had already cooled and become sticky and Castiel was stroking Dean's hair gently as Dean rested atop of Castiel, using his chest as a pillow. Sensing Dean's return from his orgasmic high, Castiel leaned down and kissed Dean on his forehead tenderly before muttering into Dean's temple to sleep. So Dean slept.

* * *

Dean snapped awake and pulled the pillow from his face as Sam slammed the door to the motel room angrily. "Dean! Where were you; I was worried!" Dean blinked at Sam wearily and quickly realised that the insides of his pants were soiled with his spunk. Dean quickly placed the pillow onto his lap as Sam turned on the lights, temporarily blinding Dean who was still trying to blink the vestiges of sleep from his eyes.

"Getting drunk."

Sam leaned down by Dean and sniffed. "I'll say, how many drinks did you have?"

Dean blinked confusedly and looked around the room, noting that there was no sign of Castiel or even a sign that Castiel had been there. "Half a bottle of whiskey?"

"And you drove back?"

"No, no, it was Cas—"

"Castiel? _Castiel_ drove you back?! You really are drunk."

Dean sighed in disappointment as he continued to look around the room under Sam's watchful gaze. Dean rubbed his face to wake himself up and realised with a pang of disappointment that his jaw was [still] smarting and the headache was coming at full force. "Dream, I guess..."

"Dean?" Sam sighed and sat next to Dean. "Look, Dean. I know you don't want to talk about how you're doing, but you are sure as hell not alright. Dean, we can't keep pretending like you never told me the truth—"

"I know! I know...just, let me talk about it in the morning alright?" Dean laid himself back down on the bed and sighed wearily, his body still tingling with the vestiges of his dream. "I'm wasted and I need to shower." For reasons, Dean thought, that he did _not_ want Sam to know.

"Alright." Sam got off Dean's bed and moved to the other one where his duffel lay. "But really, how did you get back? And were you at that bar at the edge of town?"

Dean shrugged and made of noise of not knowing. "I wasn't really paying attention; was it really busy?"

"Yeah, and the cops were all over the place looking for someone who started a fight outside in the parking lot—Dean! Please tell me that wasn't you!"

"Might've been..."

"Dean! I know you're angry at everything right now, but to start a bar fight and attract all of that attention! Look..." Sam moved to stand over Dean's form. "If you really want to fight someone, then fight me okay? Just lay it on me! But you can't—"

"Just shut it Sammy. I'm fine now."

Sam made a noise of disbelief before returning to his bed. "Three guys you took out Dean. According to the police, one guy's got a concussion from getting a glass bottle smashed onto his head—"

"The power of whiskey—"

Sam groaned in frustration. "Another guy's got a broken jaw and the last guy's just plain out cold—"

"Castiel. That one was Castiel."

Sam threw his clothes down in frustration and looked at Dean. He looked at Dean for a few moments and realised he was _not_ kidding. "Castiel? You're serious?" Sam was silent, shocked and wondering what the hell an Angel was doing in a bar fight. "He saved you?"

Dean smirked to himself, wondering the double meaning of Sam's words before nodding. "Yeah, he did." Dean let out a bark of a laugh. "And drove me back, saying I was too drunk to drive. The guy drives like an old man..."

Sam moved quickly to the window and looked out at the Impala as though hoping to still see Castiel in the driver's seat. Sam looked behind him and picked up the Impala's keys that were on the table and went outside to examine the Impala. Dean snorted in amusement and sat up quickly, using the opportunity to sneak into the shower to clean off after his not-so-holy dream. Dean made his way to his duffel before pausing and looking at the table. On the seat of the chair where Castiel had [in his dreams] draped his trench coat, there lay a single silver-gold tinted white feather, that was a good eighteen centimetres long. Dean smirked slightly before picking up the feather, feeling its fluffy soft texture, and tucking it into his leather jacket. Hearing the Impala's door slam, Dean quickly made his way to the shower and turned on the shower just as Sam was coming in. Dean _really_ didn't want Sam to see his pants.

* * *

The next day, Dean found himself talking to his brother again about everything he was feeling as advised by Castiel and though it wasn't the cathartic experience Dean was hoping for, it helped alleviate some of the feelings that pulled at his heart. They had decided to leave town quickly, with Sam taking the Impala to go shopping for supplies as Dean stayed in the motel room to avoid being seen by someone from last night's bar fight. To entertain himself [because Sam had confiscated his laptop when Dean mentioned Busty Asian Beauties as a joke], Dean had taken to examining the feather that was left behind, obviously by Castiel. Under the light of day, the feather seemed to glow with silver and gold light and it held the lingering warmth of Castiel. Dean was quite certain the events of last night were just in his head, but Dean couldn't help but wonder if Castiel himself had felt anything. After all, Dean did fuck an Angel—and not just a fallen Angel. A real very much so still winged Angel that was still in God's good graces. Of course, Dean blatantly realised, the reason why Castiel had said it [sex] wasn't blasphemy was because it was all in Dean's head. Dean snorted as he contemplated, putting down the feather onto the table and rubbing his face, wondering if he was that pitiful enough to be dreaming of pity sex.

A rush of wind and the sound of flapping wings startled Dean who snapped to attention and searched around the room before locating Castiel, sitting on the bed in the exact same place where he had in Dean's dream. "Hello Dean. You look better this morning."

Dean sighed wearily as his body tingled with the memory of his dream last night. "Yeah, after I hurled a good portion of my stomach." Dean paused, wondering if he should mention last night since technically, it didn't really happen.

Castiel saved Dean the trouble of asking, by answering himself. "Last night did happen Dean. Though it happened in what could be considered more of a spiritual sense, you still felt the effects on your physical body did you not?" Dean suppressed the blush that was fighting its way to his face. Castiel chuckled and gave Dean a warm smile, one that made Dean's heart skip a beat. Castiel had, never to Dean's memories, ever really smiled. Smirked sardonically yes, but even that was brief and held no conviction behind it. "Even though the...pity sex wasn't physical..." Castiel got off the bed, instead taking the seat next to Dean's by the table. "I...I could still feel it. It was...it was very good and I am beginning to understand why Anna would choose to fall..."

Castiel broke off and looked down, seemingly contemplating the feelings of last night. Dean felt odd, sitting there with Castiel. It almost felt like a one-night stand coming back and asking for a relationship odd. But that comparison on its own was odd in itself. Trying to change the topic [but not really], Dean asked the first thing that came to his mind. "How's Anna?"

Castiel glanced up, meeting Dean's eyes before breaking his gaze quickly and instead turned to stare at his own feather. "She isn't happy. And she is being punished for her decisions. She will most likely die."

"What?!" Dean slammed his fist down on the table, shaking the feather off the table. "We did all of that and she'll still die?! What about forgiveness?!"

Castiel sighed and his scrutiny of the feather remained. "Anna probably will be forgiven. But I say she'll most likely die because she will be sent on the most difficult missions as punishment. The kind of missions where the second time we had met, I had told you six of my brothers had died. Anna is powerful, but that may not be enough to save her life."

"Wait, is that even fair?! You guys sure have some crap arse rules and punishments."

Castiel snapped his gaze back up to meet Dean's eyes. "Would you rather I kill her? This...this is Anna's atonement. By fighting for a cause and probably dying for it. This is her atonement."

"Like how living and fighting is mine huh?" Castiel nodded briefly, once again unable to hold his gaze with Dean. "What about you?" Castiel tilted his head slightly in confusion at the feather. Dean growled in annoyance and grabbed Castiel by the shoulder and forced him to face him. "Why can't you look at me anymore?"

Castiel looked down at Dean's lips before meeting Dean's eyes. "Because I keep remembering last night." Castiel made a small grimace before continuing. "I keep remembering how you felt surrounding me, within me; and that shames me. I shouldn't be...shouldn't be lusting after you. Though my own internal justification of what my actions were don't seem to hold very much justification."

Dean released Castiel's shoulder, pondering what the hell "internal justification" was supposed to mean before asking his question again. "What about you? I mean—are you in trouble for having sex with me, even in the 'spiritual sense'?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, I'm not. Since I was supposed to be helping you cope and understand the joys of Heaven..." Dean tuned out Castiel, remembering his orgasmic high from last night. Pleasure, peace, safety, love, happiness. Those were the kinds of feelings he felt last night in his state of bliss. "Dean?" Castiel snapped Dean out of his reverie. "Are you alright?"

"Uhh, yeah, fine. I'm fine." Dean rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "So uhh...does that mean you were ordered to have sex with me?"

Castiel looked down in shame. "No, I was ordered to help you through...your darkness by any means necessary. Father will forgive me only this once for this transgression. But, I'm glad it happened. It allows me to understand humans and more importantly you, Dean, just a little bit better." With that, Castiel stood up and swept his trench coat behind him before reaching down and picking up his feather. He turned and handed it to Dean. "Keep it Dean, as a reminder of last night. It'll remind you that you're not alone in this war, and most importantly, that you should forgive yourself. Remember that Dean."

Dean examined the feather, noticing it still had a warmth to it. The feather pulsed and suddenly Dean knew Castiel was going to leave. "Wait, Cas!" Castiel had turned away partially. He paused and cast Dean an inquiring gaze. "What did you mean by 'internal justification'?"

Castiel sighed briefly before facing Dean again. "I won't lie to you Dean. My internal justification of what I'm quite certain is lust, is that I love you. Though I don't believe that's possible since what I feel here—" Castiel pressed a hand to his heart. "—isn't the same as what I feel for Father, and I know I love my Father."

Dean felt his jaw drop briefly, noting the small pain it produced before smiling at Castiel. "There are other forms of love Cas—"

"Yes I know. But I don't understand it very well. So for the time being, I must say these feelings are merely lust."

Dean felt a small pang of pain in his heart. It hurt, Dean noticed, for Castiel to insist he didn't love Dean. But at the same time, Dean could understand why Castiel wouldn't be able to recognize that kind of love. For starters, Dean realised he was a walking sacrilege and since Castiel was an Angel, that would seem to go against the Angel's very nature. Dean smiled at Castiel warmly, conceiving that there was no possible way an Angel would go through the kind of trouble Castiel did last night, just to ensure Dean's physical and emotional well being. Not without loving someone. _Especially_ since Dean did [score: two] fuck a full fledge Angel. Love indeed. "Hey Cas, may I ask you something?"

"Yes, you may." Castiel looked to still be contemplating his feelings for Dean and trying to conclude whether or not it was blasphemy.

Dean smirked. "If I say, hypothetically speaking, assault an Angel, would the Angel get in trouble with the big Man upstairs?"

Castiel looked at Dean, bewildered. "Why would you assault an Angel?" Dean looked pointedly at Castiel who sighed. "No, I imagine not. Though you might be in some trouble Dean—"

Dean kissed Castiel. Castiel stiffened briefly before responding as if it was last night all over again. Dean pulled Castiel close as if it was a hug and Castiel settled his hands in Dean's hair and scar, just as he had last night. After several minutes of passion, Dean pulled away, gasping for breath and rested his forehead on Castiel's own, just like the night before.

"Dean—"

"That was thanks, I guess." Castiel and Dean locked gazes with each other before Castiel took a step back from Dean and dropped his arms to his side. Dean still had both hands on Castiel's shoulder. Dean looked skyward and shouted. "That was all my fault! So, if you want to smite something, you can smite me because it was worth it!"

"He won't Dean." Castiel raised his hand and held Dean's jaw as he had last night. Dean felt an intense burst of warmth before Castiel removed his hand, taking the throbbing of his jaw away with him. "He has work for you Dean." And with that, Castiel took another step back out of Dean's grip and met Dean's eyes one last time. He held it for a few moments before the sound of flapping wings announced his departure.

Dean looked at the feather still clutched in his hand and smiled slightly. The sound of the Impala's engine hummed outside and Dean pulled on his leather jacket, carefully tucking the feather inside of it. He then grabbed his and Sam's duffel and cast one last gaze at the bed he slept in before leaving. "Thanks Cas."

* * *

Done! This was fifteen pages, so I guess it's a pretty long one shot. Writing this was actually pretty difficult since I tried to keep everyone in character and to make this something believable. Actually, my biggest dilemma when I started writing this was, how the bloody hell was I supposed to get Dean and Castiel to shag each other without Castiel falling?! So, this was the only solution. I'm really not too sure how believable that was, so please be sure to leave feedback as to how I did.

I can't say right now if there will be a sequel, but there just might be since Supernatural is taking a way too long break for my liking. So, be sure to look for that. And can you believe I made Castiel drive the Impala?!?! I would seriously pay to see that.

And just in case you don't realise where Dean started dreaming, it was when he told Castiel to get out and pulled the pillow over his head for what he thought was several minutes. He fell asleep and started dreaming then. I wonder if you guys saw that one coming?

Please review! Because feedback is greatly appreciated especially since this is the first thing I've written for Supernatural.

Sailor Moonac


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